In a Flash, the M Rated Section
by CasusFere
Summary: A series of unrelated flash fics, separated from the main set for rating purposes. Multiple characters, general warning for violence and sexual situations. Specific warnings on each chapter.
1. Aircraft Do Not Belong in Closets

Warning: Awkward sexy times of the p'n'p variety. Swearing. Insults.  
Pairing: Blades/Slingshot  
Universe: G1  
Prompt: **tf_speedwriting**: PWP  
Summary: It seemed like a good idea at the time. More humor than smut.

* * *

"Hey! Watch the wings!" Slingshot hissed as the shove sent him stumbling back, leading edges of his wings smacking against the shelves.

Blades smirked. "I'll fraggin' do more than watch 'em." He slapped the door control and stepped forward - not that he needed to step far. The closet was cramped enough for _one_ mech, much less two, even before adding in all the cleaning supplies stored inside.

"All talk, no thrust, whirligig," Slingshot snapped back, grabbing him roughly. "Get your aft over here."

"Just can't wait to get your hands on me, eh, birdy?" Blades smirked, running his own hands up the jet's hips.

"If I waited for you to figure it out, I'd rust out before- AHH!" Slingshot broke off with a squawk.

"What is it?" Blades froze in place, afraid he'd somehow hurt Slingshot with that shove.

"I think something's jammed in my baffle," Slingshot said, twisting slightly to check his wing, only to whack his head against a shelf. "Ow!"

"Feeling smarter all of a sudden?" Blades asked, smirking before leaning over to look. "I think that's a mop handle."

"Get it out," Slingshot said through gritted denta, "Now."

Choking back a laugh, Blades leaned in close, carefully extracting the handle from the flap. "Better?" He smirked back at Slingshot and gently messaged the baffle hinge. The jet shivered against him.

"Shut up and keep rubbing," Slingshot growled, disgruntled.

"Bossy," Blades breathed into Slingshot's audio, fingers working their way up all the complicated control surfaces of the underside of Slingshot's wings, teasing each flap and baffle and seam until Slingshot was clinging to his shoulders, stifling a moan in his neck.

"You fraggin' like it when I'm bossy," Slingshot rasped when he finally managed to find his voice.

"Fraggin' right." Blades grinned. "Also like makin' you beg, birdy."

"Not happening," Slings growled, pulling back and pinching the closest rotor.

The growl didn't seem to discourage Blades in the slightest. He renewed his ministrations, hooking two fingers under a flap to drag the jet as close as he could, his other hand sliding down Slingshot's hip, his mouth going to the jet's neck. "Fraggin' gorgeous, you know that?"

Slingshot's hands trembled on his shoulders. "Shut the frag up and 'face me," he said, voice low.

"What the frag do you think I'm doing, featherbrain?" Blades dug his fingers in for emphasis, loving how the motion made Slingshot arch and surge against him.

"Fraggin' foreplay," Slingshot snapped, but there was no heat to it, and his hands were moving, stroking down the transformation seams in the helicopter's back and shoulders.

"Prima donna jet," Blades murmured into Slingshot's neck cables. "Everything's always gotta be your way."

"Only because you don't have any fraggin' clue what you're doing, blender butt," Slingshot growled back.

A quick movement of his leg and a shift of balance, and Slingshot landed heavily on his aft, Blades on top of him, cleaning supplies tumbling off the shelves around them. "Don't fraggin' call me that."

Slingshot bared his denta. "Make me stop."

"You aren't gonna be able to say anything but '_Please'_ when I'm done with you," Blades promised, voice dark with lust. Any reply Slingshot had to that was lost in a moan as Blades found the thrust nozzles and slipped his fingers in, stroking along the side walls. Slingshot writhed under him, hands finding grip on Blades' legs and optics darkening. Blades grinned. "Sorry, didn't quite catch that."

"Fragger," Slingshot managed, then cried out as Blades plunged his fingers in deep. "Fraggin' do that again," he gasped.

"Say please." Blades smirked down at him.

"Frag off," Slingshot snapped.

Blades traced a fingertip along the outside rim of the nozzle, reveling in the way the simple motion made the jet under him shiver and bite back a whimper. "Now now. Manners, birdbrain."

"Frag you and your manners," Slingshot snapped, then gasped as the hand not occupied with his thrust mechanisms found his interface panel.

Blades deftly opened the panel, lightly fingering the port. "What was it you were saying about foreplay? You wanted more of it?"

Slingshot's engine snarled. "Plug in or get off, afthead," he growled.

Blades' engine revved at that and he fumbled at unlatching his own interface hatch, roughly snapping the the connectors into place. He dropped the firewall, and let the flare of sensation and emotion wash over him. He could feel Slingshot's hand sliding up his rotor assembly, and his own fingers under Slingshot's plating, feel the rush of pleasure and want and lust and _need_, all flooding his sensor net and reverberating back down the link to Slingshot.

Their movements became more insistent, more desperate as the sensor echoes built, each new stroke, each twist and kiss and bite sending a new flare of sensation until their world went white with a flood of pure, agonizing pleasure, crashing through both their systems like an unstoppable wave of ecstasy.

Blades came back to himself sprawled across Slingshot, automatic processes rebuilding his firewalls as he rebooted. Cooling metal ticked under his cheek.

"Not bad, birdy," he said voice hoarse.

"Oh frag you, blender butt," Slingshot muttered back, but he sounded more content than angry. "Off. You're heavy."

Blades started to lever himself up, only to be brought up short by a shooting pain radiating from his rotor assembly. "Ow! Dammit!"

"What?" Slingshot lifted his head, alarmed.

"My rotor is stuck." Blades tugged on the offending appendage, but it remained firmly wedged in the crack between the shelf just above him and the wall. He didn't have enough leeway between him and Slingshot's chassis to free it.

"So pull it out."

"If I could, I would have already, bird brain! Move, I need to get lower to slide it out."

"Yeah, great plan, except the part where I can't move because you've got me pinned. Wings, afthead!"

Blades cycled air. "Frag."

"...We're going to have to call someone, aren't we?" Slingshot groaned. "Great."

"If you don't like it, don't get us stuck!"

"Hey, this was your idea! 'Let's do it in the closet,' you said. 'It'll be fun,' you said." Slingshot glared at him. "I'm never listening to you again."


	2. Ultimatum

Warning: Implications of rape, attempted (failed)sexual humiliation, public sex  
Characters: Springer, Sandstorm  
Universe: G1  
Summary: While attempting to rescue a group of civilian refugees, Springer and Sandstorm are caught by a sadistic Decepticon. Subverting the old "screw or die" trope. Dark humor rather than darkfic. Flash fic, 1 hour, 15 minutes.

* * *

_"Keep calm,"_ Springer said over a tight, encrypted band, even as he raised his hands. _"Rescue's already on the way."_ He exchanged looks with Sandstorm over the heads of the others, mostly civilian refugees. _Frag_ it, this wasn't how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to be saving these people, not leading them into a trap!

He didn't let his apprehension show on his face, offering the Decepticon in the lead a bright smile. "Nice day, ain't it?"

The Decepticon, a big wheeled mech he didn't recognize, smirked back. They had Springer's group outnumbered, even before he factored in the fact that most of his were unarmed civilians. He and Sandstorm were the only ones packing more than a light pistol.

"Well, looky here," the Decepticon said, gloating. "Wasn't I just sayin' that this planet needed some entertainment?" He stepped forward to loom over Springer. "My mechs have been gettin' kinda, well, _lonely_ out here. It's awful nice of you to stop in to entertain them."

_Frag and double frag._ Springer didn't like where this was going at all. He kept the smile on his face. "Really? Well, I've been told I do a mean sock puppet routine-"

"Smartmouth. I like that," the big Decepticon growled. "I'm gonna really enjoy watchin' you get 'faced into the dirt." His smirk widened. "I'm feelin' generous. You pick which of your little friends you want to screw for our entertainment, and if you put on a good enough show, my boys here might not have to find their own 'entertainment' with the little civilians."

Springer felt the fuel in his lines go cold, dark anger flaring inside him. _Fraggers._ They wanted to offer him the option of raping one of his people personally, or watching them do it to the rest. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

His voice is deceptively light when he calls out. "Hey, Sandstorm! Wanna 'face me into the dirt?"

He feels a flare of vindictive pleasure at the surprised expression on the Decepticon's face when Sandstorm responded with a cheerful "Sure!"

Catcalls, whistles, and laughter broke out from the Decepticon troops as Sandstorm shoved him down. He wrapped his legs around Sandstorm's, gasping as those talented fingers went straight for a sensitive spot.

_"You good?"_ Sandstorm asked, sounding worried over the tight band, even as his mouth found Springer's neck and one of the Decepticons whooped.

_"I'm good,"_ Springer answered. _"Just gotta keep 'em distracted for a little while."_ He smirked faintly, despite the direness of the situation. _"You got enough tricks for that?"_

_"Dunno,"_ Sandstorm said cockily, as his fingers found _that_ seam and he dug in, Springer arching up against him with a gasp. _"They look distracted?_

Springer forced his optics back online to check their audience, to find the Decepticon's collective attention focused on them, much to the enemy leader's apparent disgust.

_"Oh yes,"_ Springer said, then cried out as Sandstorm dug his fingers in deeper and did _something_ that made his sensors light up like a plasma blast. He was only vaguely aware of the appreciative noises from the Decepticons watching as he scrabbled for a better grip on Sandstorm's back. "Okay, _that_ you can do again," he rasped out loud when he could speak again.

_"Just keepin' it real,"_ Sandstorm said, and Springer could feel the smirk against his neck.

The loose ring of Decepticons tightened as Sandstorm seemed to find every spot that could wring a noise out of Springer, stroking, twisting, plunging under seams and _twisting._ So engrossed were they that the first realization they had that the Autobot's backup had found them was the warning volley sent over their heads. Surrounded and outnumbered as much as they had just outnumbered Springer's team, they dropped weapons and surrendered.

Springer propped himself up on his elbows, legs still tangled with Sandstorm's, and grinned at Ultra Magnus.

"Not exactly what I'd call a textbook distraction," Ultra Magnus said dryly.

"But it worked," Springer answered cheerfully.

"Doesn't that just sound like a cause for celebration?" Sandstorm asked, matching Springer's grin.

"Good point." Springer reached up to grab Sandstorm by his tail rotor and pull him back down.

Ultra Magnus shook his head, expression torn between amusement and disgust. _"Wreckers."_


	3. Force

Warning: Violent sex and rape fantasy  
Pairing: Brawl/Vortex  
Universe: G1  
Summary: Brawl "gets to know" his newest team mate. Pre-series, 1 hour flashfic  
A/N- There is a second flash fic following this one, but as it's rated MA/NC-17, it can be found on my LJ. Follow the homepage link in my profile.

* * *

Brawl growled when he got up from the rec room table to find the new squad member right behind him, crowding into his space. "What the frag d'you want?" he demanded.

The helicopter stayed quiet, cocking his head and staring in that strange creepy way he'd been staring since Onslaught had brought him in. Frankly, Brawl hoped that Onslaught was gonna do whatever he was gonna do with the helicopter already and get rid of the fragger. He snorted, shouldering the helicopter aside - what was his name? Something swirly. Helicopter-y.

A hand wrapped around his barrel, pulling him back. Brawl snarled and whirled, fists coming up. The helicopter was still staring at him, standing too close and _watching. _That was fraggin' _enough!_ Brawl lashed out, feeling his fist impact the side of the helicopter's battlemask with a satisfying _crunch._

The blow knocked the helicopter off balance and he fell back against a table, barely catching himself on the edge. He brought a hand up to gingerly touch the buckled metal of his battlemask and... giggled?

"You're strong," the helicopter said, straightening and stepping back into Brawl's personal space. Brawl tensed, fists clenched and ready to belt the helicopter again. "I'm Vortex."

Brawl grunted. He'd known it was something swirly. "What d'you want?" he demanded again.

Vortex reached up, fingering the smeared grey paint on Brawl's fist. "You're _really_ strong," he repeated, then looked up into Brawl's optics and leaned forward until he was pressed against the tank's chest. "I want you," he said, voice low and rough. "I want you to pin me up against the wall and _force_ me."

"Huh?" was Brawls less-than-coherent response. Vortex couldn't mean what he thought he meant-

"I want out to 'face me until I beg you to stop, then hurt me some more. I want you to hold me down while my plating buckles under your grip, grab my rotors and _twist _until I scream."

Brawl's engine revved. "Frag yes," he growled, and he grabbed Vortex and shoved, propelling the helicopter back against the table and sending him crashing to the floor. Vortex barely had time to push himself to his hands and knees before Brawl was on him again, seizing him by his rotor hub and forcing him back down.

Metal squealed in Brawl's rough grip, and Vortex writhed, crying out. "I'm gonna make you _scream," _Brawl snarled into his audio. A shudder ran through the helicopter at the words, and Vortex moaned. The moan turned into a sharp whimper of pain and ecstasy as Brawl took a rotor and twisted.

Alright, so_ maybe _they could keep the helicopter...


End file.
